I'm With You Original Story plus Sequel
by illogicallybold
Summary: Alone after an outing with his bridge crew, Jim faces his feelings for his first officer.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Chapter Notes:

I blame the rain and cold, cold weather in Portland for this.

I'm With You ~

Numb fingers pulled the collar of his wool coat closed in a vain hope of trapping his waning body heat. Lengthening his strides, breath puffing out in small clouds of vapor with each exhale, James Kirk fought to shiver in the abnormal cool of late April in San Francisco. It was late, just past midnight and the streetlights glittered off the still wet street, catching wandering blue eyes as he slowed to a stop on the middle of a small bridge. Turning, the young captain stared out into the dark abyss, observing the bright neon signs, the soft shuffle of feet further away, and the echoes of fading laughter. The icy night air slowly crept up his legs through his suit pants, until his body began to tremble, trying to produce heat. He refused to notice, eyes trained on the now clear sky, a velvet black curtain studded with bright pinpricks of light.

He thought the universe was done screwing up his life, done trying to break him, done devouring his soul. Choking down a strangled sob, Jim staggered to the thick concrete railing, bare fingers grabbing the rough surface, allowing the bite of pain to center him for the moment. But as his breathing slowed, the torture of the night came back, lacerating his heart, rampaging through his mind, until all his senses were overwhelmed with the memory.

It was shore leave. A small gathering. The main bridge crew. Camaraderie, laughter, drinks, just a time for connections with those he trusted with his life. Everything was going so well. So fucking well! Then, Jim had to fuck it up. Swearing, Kirk, crossed his arms, fingers burrowing into the folds.

One year, six months, eight days ago, James T. Kirk accepted the fact he felt more emotions and attachment than he should for his first officer. They were the best command team in the federation. They maintained higher efficiency levels, higher job satisfaction, more successful missions than all other ships and crews in the entire Starfleet Federation. Cadets, officers, personnel, ambassadors, sought out the Enterprise and her crew for postings, for missions, to get the job done. Jim would not endanger this synergy for his human emotions. Besides the professional reasons, Jim for all his history was not a home wrecker. First Officer Spock and Lieutenant Uhura were… content. Bones suggested, well suited for each other.

Shifting closer to the concrete guard, Jim wavered, for once letting his feelings for Spock fill him. Pain and sorrow, frustration and attraction, humor and compassion. For that long moment, in the frigid cold on an abandoned bridge in San Francisco, Jim let himself cherish Spock how he wished he could in his presence. Jim let those feelings fill his soul, his mind, until he was overflowing with emotion… eyes dampening, heart racing, grasping for breath. He held on to those emotions, and then as if releasing a captured bird, let them go. To soar away.

Somewhere 20 or so blocks away, while pulling his gloves on, a male silhouette stilled as whispers of positive emotions, of love and care caressed his mind with a bright warm touch.

Letting out one last long deep breath, Jim came back to himself, in control and grounded. He was cold, nose and cheeks red, body shivering in the thin wool coat trying to produce heat. Alone on a bridge, he glanced one more time at the stars, before heading towards Starfleet Headquarters. There was no use wallowing in what would never be.


	2. Sequel?

I'm With You Sequel?

Zipping his thick insulated black wool coat closed, Spock paused to ponder the brief whisper of emotion he had just felt. Foreign, yet familiar, the softest of caresses warmed his katra and mind as if he were standing once again on his home world. Unconsciously his katra had tried desperately to capture the fleeting emotions as if a child chasing a butterfly, always out of gasp. In one breath he felt so warm and then with a shaky exhale, he was once again cold, standing on Earth. He would meditate tonight on this curious experience and on the odd behavior of his captain.

Bidding McCoy, Scott, Sulu and Chekov farewell, and following Nyota out into the night, Spock's mind wandered once again to Kirk. The young blond had appeared distracted the whole night; drinking little, mind wandering, never quite engaging in any of the conversations happening around the table. It was odd behavior for the normally gregarious captain. This went on for nearly four hours before McCoy questioned him quietly. The captain gave no answer, simply finished his drink, clasped McCoy's shoulder briefly and levered himself out of his chair. He plastered on a false smile, eyes dull, wished everyone a goodnight and disappeared into the night. McCoy and Spock had both stared after the captain, eyes connecting briefly, before being pulled once again into the conversation at the table.

A petite hand grasping his forearm brought Spock back into the present. They had stopped right before the bridge leading to Starfleet Headquarters.

"Would you like to stay the night?" the beautiful communications officer asked quietly. She and some of the other Enterprise crew were staying at a local hotel, closer to the city's amenities. The Vulcan knew the offer had a 97.39% chance in leading to sexual congress, which while satisfying, seemed almost repelling on this cold night, however after the brief flicker of emotions he had experienced earlier, Spock acknowledged a deep yearning for companionship.

Meditation seemed to be the only answer. He was not balanced and his logic seemed to be failing him. "I require meditation tonight," he responded, deep brown human eyes settling on the woman's face. Her lips quirked up slightly, as she nodded. Reaching up, she placed a tender kiss on his still lips, whispering, "Goodnight Spock." Her large brown eyes searched his face for a silent moment before she turned back to the street and made her way quickly to the hotel.

The Vulcan watched her go, numb. Her care and affections did not evoke any emotions within himself; he was content with their relationship, however it was not the burning devotion his mother had spoke of, nor was it the satisfying connection his father described would happen over time. Maybe this is how his love would be, peaceful, content, and predictable. There was no confusion between Nyota and himself.

Turning on his heel, Spock quickly crossed the bridge and was making his way through the quad to the personnel building he was staying in, when his feet slowed to a stop, eyes focused on a familiar body not three meters from him. The young captain.

Head tipped back, blond hair mused, eyes closed, neck slightly arched, arms open, he was still. Small clouds of breath escaped his partially open lips as Spock stood there observing his captain and friend. The gathering clouds overhead shifted and Jim was bathed in moonlight. Spock's breath caught for the first time in his existence, eyes memorizing this image for perusal later. Jim was not longer human as he stood so still in the silvery lunar rays.

The normally slightly tan face was awash with pale light, softening the distinct male features, pale pink lips glistening, blond hair an ethereal platinum, contrasting against the tight hug of the wool coat encasing his arms and torso. Were he a poet, Spock hypothesized he would have more words to describe what he saw besides magical and enchanting. His world had narrowed in the millisecond his breath caught and his heart stuttered, to Jim and only Jim. Then the clouds moved again, darkening the quad with hard icy rain.

Neither moved. It was illogical to stand in the rain and stare at his commanding officer, yet Spock did not move his body to the building not 10 meters in front of him. He was confused on a deeply emotional level. How could this human evoke so many strong emotions within himself by simply standing still and yet Nyota could not when actively pursuing him.

"Captain," Spock's voice echoed over the pounding rain startling the man before him. The human turned, wiping moisture from his eyes before focusing on the Vulcan. Bloodshot blue searched curious brown for a moment, and Spock knew without a doubt pain and longing swirled in the graying-blue eyes. "We should head inside." Nodding, both Starfleet officers quickly made their way into the building and towards the elevator.


End file.
